


i would drink a case of you, darling

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Kissing, Post-Here Lies the Abyss, four things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke, Isabela, and four universes where they kissed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>i. if i'm late, i'm blaming you so hard.</i><br/>ii. "hawke," isabela says, tasting the name on her tongue. aveline had called her marian.<br/>iii. she stumbles out of the fade with nothing.<br/>iv. a little force magic can get you everywhere, sweet thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i would drink a case of you, darling

**Author's Note:**

> first DA2 fic that I have ever posted whoo. it's a 4 things fic for pirate gfs oops. some might get their own standalone fics - I've grown very fond, for example, of Aveline as Captain America (Captain Ferelden? Captain Kirkwall??) and Isabela as Black Widow and might scribble out more stuff in that verse. also the class swap one.
> 
> I was _going_ to just lurk on the fringes of this fandom but I loved Hawke/Isabela too much to pass up the chance to write fic. even tiny little ficlets. enjoy.

**i. college**

The camera's bulb flashes white, leaving a purple hole in Isabela's peripheral vision for a brief time. She looks up from the book she's reading--one of Merrill's, _A History of the Dales_ , chapters three to four.

"Enjoying the view, Hawke?" she asks, reclining on the couch a little more, and Hawke sets her camera down and grins.

"Definitely," Hawke says, clambering on over. "Thanks for agreeing to be my model, by the way--I haven't been this prolific in _months_." She settles on top of Isabela, her body fitting easily into hers, and presses a brief kiss to Isabela's lips.

The book makes a soft thud as it drops onto the carpet, and Isabela slides a hand into Hawke's hair and deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth. Hawke moans against her lips, and Isabela knows she has her now. Her hands drift to Hawke's shoulders, gripping her tight as Isabela flips her onto her back.

"Hey, no fair distracting me," Hawke complains, once Isabela's broken away. "I'm the photographer here, I'm supposed to be in charge."

"Have you ever known me to play fair?" Isabela asks.

Hawke scrunches her nose up, in that way that Isabela finds absolutely adorable, and says, "Point. But _still_."

"Oh, hush," Isabela says, her hands undoing the buttons on Hawke's shirt, "you love it when I don't play fair."

"I'd love it even more if you let me win every so often-- _oh_ , you _cheat_ \--"

Isabela grins against Hawke's skin, says, "Complaining now, are we?"

"I've got a class in thirty minutes," Hawke says, breathlessly. "And the door's unlocked, anybody could walk in--"

"Then we'd better make this quick," Isabela says, fingers undoing Hawke's paint-stained jeans with quickness born out of practice, "and _you'd_ better be quiet."

Hawke gasps, then, her head tipping back onto the arm rest in answer. "If I'm late," she says, "I'm blaming you. So hard."

"How will I live," Isabela says, the corners of her mouth turning up in a wicked grin, and she goes to work.

\--

**ii. mcu**

The first time the Black Widow meets the Winter Soldier, the Soldier kisses her under a street lamp in Orlais, her mouth tasting of ale and chocolate, her hands gentle despite the blood that had been on them both just hours ago.

The second time, the Soldier puts a bullet through Isabela's torso on a road heading out from Antiva. It happens again on the third, except this time it's through her shoulder.

The first time Isabela meets Marian Hawke, it's six months after the fiasco with Meredith, and Hawke has broken into her apartment's kitchen at five in the morning and raided her fridge. There's a plate with a sizable amount of food piled on top already on the table, in fact.

"So what should I call you this time?" Isabela asks, and Hawke nearly jumps, her arms laden with various foodstuffs. "I can't imagine you're inclined to be called Soldier."

"And I don't think you want me to call you Widow," Hawke shoots back. She looks different from the ghost that Aveline and Donnic are trying to track down, from the sketches and pictures Isabela's found. Thinner, paler, and there's that gleaming metal arm peeking out from under her sleeve, and there's a streak of red across her nose that was definitely not there before.

"It's Isabela now," Isabela says. "Last I checked, you were in Nevarra."

"I was," says Hawke, "up until four days ago." She kicks the fridge door closed, then carefully sets the food in her arms down on the table. "I left as soon as I got wind Aveline was there. I couldn't really talk to her, I'm--not really ready for that."

"So you came here and broke into the kitchen of one of her friends," Isabela dryly says. "Brilliant plan, by the way."

"I swear, I had no idea this was your place," says Hawke, holding her hands up. "I thought no one lived here. I promise, I'll leave as soon as--"

"Did I say I wanted you to leave?" Isabela asks, folding her arms. "I remember Orlais. Do you?"

Hawke pauses a moment, then says, her tone quiet, "I kissed you under the street lamp. You were--You kissed me back." She pauses, then points at Isabela. "With _tongue._ "

"I didn't hear any complaints," Isabela says, stepping around the table and closer to Hawke. Up close, she can see the freckles, like faint stardust across her face. "What else?"

"I don't know, it's all fuzzy," says Hawke, and Isabela knows just from her casual tone that it's not that fuzzy, not anymore. "I think I need my memory jogged."

"Happy to help," Isabela says. Hawke is a few inches taller than she is, so she leans up on her toes and kisses her. She tastes like the leftover pizza Isabela had been planning on finishing the next day this time, like cheap beer, and she kisses back like she wants to stay, this time.

When they break away, she says, "My name's Hawke. Nice to meet you, Isabela."

"Hawke," Isabela says, testing the name on her tongue. Aveline had called her Marian, Marian who had kind words to say about anyone, Marian who came from Lothering and had a smile ready for everyone she came across, Marian who went into the war with bright eyes and sweet words and came out with a sharp tongue and quick fingers, Marian who Isabela never met. "A pleasure to meet you too."

Hawke smiles, a lopsided little smile, and when she kisses her again, Isabela thinks, well, no great loss. She likes Hawke already.

She kisses back, and makes sure to slip her some tongue.

\--

**iii. abyss**

She stumbles out of the Fade in a strange land with nothing, not even a name, to call her own. She doesn't know how long she's been inside--a week, a month, a year? Too long, far too long for anyone to come out unscathed. All she can think, when her feet step onto real, solid ground, is _I'm out,_ and then nothing more.

Someone brings her to a tavern nearby. Someone tells her she can stay, and earn her keep. She doesn't see any other path, so she accepts, sets aside her staff and takes up a broom and a tray.

Time passes, and she sleeps sometimes--never for too long, though. The Fade is not something she wants to go to again, but everyone must sleep. It takes a while for her to readjust to being able to tell the day and the night apart again--back in the Fade, there was no way to tell time.

She's wiping down tables when the pirate walks in, dark hair tied with a blue bandana and a slash of red on her arm. At first the pirate doesn't seem to notice her, instead makes a beeline for the counter for a drink, and something heavy drops into the pit of her stomach. There's something about the pirate that makes her heart flutter, makes her chest feel tight with something unnameable. There's something _familiar_ about her, and before she knows it she's crossed the room and tapped her on the shoulder.

The pirate turns, and her dark eyes brighten when she sees her, her mouth falls open in surprise. " _Hawke_ ," she breathes, the name like a fervent prayer, and she surges up and forward, gloved fingers threading through her hair, mouth hot and wet and sweet on hers.

Hawke presses her close, kisses back like she knows how to. She's always known, she realizes, she just--forgot. For a little while. _Isabela,_ she thinks, and just like that she remembers again.

"Never," Isabela says, when they break apart for air, " _never_ do that again. I _missed_ you--"

Hawke brushes a strand of hair back behind Isabela's ear. "I missed you too," she says. "I'm sorry I couldn't get word to you sooner--the Fade messed with my head, I didn't really come out of it intact." She nods to the stairs, says, "I've got a room here. I can explain there."

"I've got all the time in the world to hear it," Isabela says, and Hawke laughs, breaks away and takes her hand to lead her up to her room.

\--

**iv. swap**

The first time Hawke sees Isabela, she's got the bladed end of a staff pointed at a man's throat, and a smirk on her face as sharp as Hawke's daggers.

"Ask yourself, Lucky," she says, "is this worth dying for?"

And Maker, Hawke knows then that she's _gone_ , she's fallen and fast, and she walks up to Isabela and there is something-- _magical_ about her. It's not just the staff, she thinks. It's not just the way she moves, just daring someone to call her out for the staff she carries on her back, just daring someone to whistle in her direction, confident and attractive and dangerous.

As her apostate brother Carver keeps complaining about, Hawke is attracted to danger. And Isabela--Isabela is a lot more than that, she finds. She likes hats, the bigger the better, and loves the sea, the freedom she could only find on a wooden deck with the wind blowing in her hair. She hates the idea of even going into the Gallows, with Templars standing around just waiting for the chance to drag another mage kicking and screaming into a prison, but goes whenever Hawke asks.

"Because I can't find anything else to do," Isabela says flippantly once, after Hawke's dragged her, Anders and Fenris to meet with Thrask. "And because watching these two at each other's throats is more entertainment than I could possibly pass up."

"At least _you're_ entertained," Hawke says, and glances at Fenris. By some miracle he hasn't roasted Anders alive yet, but it's only a matter of time. "I mean, I could think of better, personally."

"Oh? Do tell." Isabela smiles, that arrow's-edge smile that makes Hawke fall even faster, makes her wonder what it would feel like to press her lips against hers.

She finds out, years down the line, after the Deep Roads (and Carver, Maker's breath, she hopes he's safe), after Isabela breaks into her spacious house and rummages through the letters on her desk.

"How do you keep breaking into my house?" Hawke asks her.

"A little force magic can get you everywhere, sweet thing," Isabela answers. “Lovely place you’ve got here, by the way. Though I do miss your old house.”

Hawke laughs, says, “You mean the old hovel I shared with my mother, my brother, and my uncle?”

"It had its charm," Isabela says.

"If by charm, you mean a pungent smell and Gamlen, then sure." She sweeps her hand out to indicate the mansion's foyer. "Besides, this isn't so bad." She grins, steps closer, and says, "And you can get your thrills in Hightown, if you know where to look."

And there--a flash of interest, and Isabela's lips curl upward in a wicked smile. "Ooh, I can think of a few things that could thrill you," she says. "What do you say to some girly fun?"

"Like shopping?" Hawke asks, and Isabela chuckles, stepping closer and meeting her eyes. A flick of her hand, and suddenly something pushes Hawke into her arms. "Hey, no fair using force magic on me," Hawke half-heartedly complains.

"You should know by now," Isabela murmurs against her ear, "that I don't play fair," and when she kisses her it feels like fire, like ice, like electricity shooting down her spine. Isabela tastes like the Hanged Man's cheap ale and the sweets she always denies stealing from Hawke's kitchens, and Hawke wants more, Maker, she wants so much more.

When Hawke steps up to the Arishok and spits _You can't have her_ , it's the kiss she's thinking about. Not just the kiss, in fact--she thinks about Isabela's smile, dagger-sharp for everyone but Hawke, about the fire curling up from her fingers to make a show just for the two of them, about the many, many times she's come through for her. She fights for Isabela, nearly dies for her, and when she wakes up Isabela is at her bedside, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

"Oh, Hawke," she murmurs, looking exhausted. Hawke blearily recalls Carver, and Fenris, and even Anders--for all that he's not actually a healer, he's good at treating injuries--at her side trying to keep her from bleeding out, and remembers Isabela, her fingers glowing as she brushed them over the cuts and bruises. "What did you do that for?"

"I couldn't let him have you," Hawke mumbles, and Isabela smiles, sad and soft and not at all sharp. Her eyes are watering.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I--" She cuts herself off, then leans forward to press a kiss to Hawke's lips. She tastes like the salt of the sea and the Hanged Man's cheap swill, like magic. If magic had a taste, she thinks, it would taste like Isabela does.

"Sleep," Isabela murmurs, one hand drifting up to brush against Hawke's temple, already beginning to glow, and Hawke is just about to ask what she means when the darkness overtakes her all at once.

When she wakes up, Isabela's gone.

\--

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> (note: for anyone who's curious about the class swap: Hawke switched with Isabela (yes Hawke was a force mage), Anders switched with Fenris, Aveline switched with Varric, Bethany switched with Carver (KIND OF Beth was a rogue) and Merrill is now the most adorable reaver you will ever know.)


End file.
